"A Game of Hearts" - Ani/Ami Episode II fic (reposted)

EEK. This doesn't sound so good.

 

Oh my. I missed the lst two posts... darn evil brothers of mine, stealing the computer.... well, Great Posts!

Up!

 

Okay, Cinde... you can't just stop there! This is cruel and unusual punishment!

I've just gotten some time to catch up on reading fanfic and this is the first one I've tried. Please keep up the great writing and post soon!

 

D'UH!!! More!!!

 

MORE!!!!!!!!!! or... or... well, it won't be good whatever it is!!! LOL

UPPERS!

 

Mesa tinkin' Anakin needs to watch himself!
Great post!

 

UP!

 

Good news: here's a new post. Bad news: I'm going off on vacation tomorrow for two weeks, so I can't post until I get back. To make up for that at least a little, I'm going to give you two posts now. I promise to post lots as soon as I come back!!
----------
Anakin knew the way to Mos Eisley well enough, though he had never been there himself, having kept mostly to the outskirts of Mos Espa as a slave. He had a veritable map of the planet drawn out in his mind, sketched out over the years of listening to customers and passers-by describing their travels. He scarcely forgot anything he heard, something that had proved to be both a blessing and a curse. He could still remember, for example, everything the Jedi Council had said to him and of him upon their first meeting, and the words still stung as though just spoken yesterday.

Afraid are you?...I sense much fear in you...He is too old...The boy is dangerous....

That last one was the worst. He wished, more than anything, that he could banish from his memory those words he had unintentionally overheard from the man who was, unbeknownst to anyone at that time, about to become his master. It didn't matter that Qui-Gon's death changed everything; it didn't matter that Obi-Wan had become his friend as well as his teacher. Anakin still allowed the thought to plague him, every day, that he had not yet earned his master's approval. Worse, he could speak to it of no one; certainly not to Obi-Wan himself, and who else was there to confide in?

Anakin glanced at Padmé as she rode silently in the speeder, her eyes closed to block out the dust that flew in their faces in the wind. Talking to her about his problems was something he had certainly considered. She would understand, he had no doubt. But...but...

What?

Anakin frowned. He had always loved Padmé, more dearly now than ever before. Boyish adoration was very different from what he felt for her now, of course. And he cared for her so deeply it almost hurt. Was that it, then? He was afraid to get to close? He had been so baffled by Padmé's constant need to distance herself, and now he was experiencing the very same thing himself.

No, that wasn't it exactly. He couldn't pinpoint what the problem was. He wanted to be close to Padmé, of course - that was probably the reason why he had eventually allowed her to come along, despite all of his protests against it. Yet just when they were getting close, and Padmé seemed less and less reluctant - he turned into something that pushed her away entirely. Yes, that was it. He didn't want to get away from Padmé. He wanted to get away from himself. And since that was impossible, he was taking it out on her. He clenched his teeth. Wrong, wrong, it was all wrong, and there was so little he could do about it. With his mother possibly in danger of her life, and the two of them in the middle of the desert on a desperate search to find her, they were hardly in a situation to talk about it. He would probably only make it worse.

He looked at her again, wondering what thoughts were churning behind her beautiful face. They probably weren't very favorable towards him, not after the way he had been acting. Instantly, there rose in his own mind excuses and defensive explanations for his behavior. But my mother's in danger - what does she expect from me? I can't risk losing Mom. Can she blame me for what I've done? The defense was almost reflexive, indignant, proud. What right did she have to accuse him?

And what right do I have to put her through any of this?

Padmé knew him all too well, he realized glumly. He was plagued by two separate halves of himself, perhaps more, and they fought and struggled within him constantly. He could never seem to focus on just one thing. If he tried to concentrate on his mother, Padmé's safety would come to mind. If he attempted to keep his thoughts on her, the promises he had made to Obi-Wan would flash into view. And then the vows he made as a Jedi. And the expectation

 

It was twilight by the time they finally reached the city. Padmé had drifted off, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. It was the most physical contact they had had since starting off for Mos Eisley, and Anakin did not discourage it, even if she was unconscious to any of it. Now, reluctantly, as he stopped the speeder on the outskirts, he nudged her awake.

"Padmé," he whispered. "We're here."

She awoke slowly, staring up into his face seemingly without recognition. When she noticed, at last, that she had been leaning on him, she did not instantly pull away as he had worried. She clung to him for a moment, and he certainly did not push her off, enjoying the feel of her warm body against his and the rhythm of her measured breathing. Eventually, however, he would have to disturb the perfect moment. Stroking her hair, he murmured some incomprehensible word, and she gave an equally inarticulate reply and finally drew away. Holding his gaze, she whispered, "What are we doing here, Anakin?"

He knew she was not asking about their purpose in coming to Mos Eisley. There was something of far more portent in her question, and it made him downright uneasy.

"We're doing ? we're doing what we have to do," he said at last.

She seemed oddly satisfied by the answer and began climbing out of the speeder. Anakin, staring after her for a moment, shook his head and followed her out.

Anakin wasn't exactly sure what they were going to do once they entered the city. He only had a vague memory of where the Judland Wastes lay, and he had no idea how to get there from Mos Eisley. And where, in that desolate place, he would find his mother, he simply didn't know. It all seemed so terribly hopeless, and for a brief instant Padmé's question seemed to attack him with its literal meaning. What were they doing?

He narrowed his eyes fiercely. Was he actually allowing regret to enter his mind? There was no room for it.

Checking instinctively for the saber at his belt, Anakin looked before him at the city they were about to enter. The setting of the suns had spread shadows over the buildings, creating an uncomfortably foreboding atmosphere, where anything could be lurking in the darkness. Anakin restrained a shudder, heaved a deep breath, and offered his hand to Padmé's. She seemed similarly uneasy as she accepted it, staring at the dark cityscape with wide eyes as they started forward. Neither one said a word.

Anakin was determined to ask the first person he met if they knew of the farmer who owned Shmi Skywalker, and he would continue asking people until someone knew the answer.

He would not consider the possibility that no one knew.

Things seemed pretty discouraging at first. Anyone who was out on the streets at that time of day ? or rather, night ? did not seem particularly trustworthy. That included anyone he addressed, and for them it included him. They eyed him with suspicion and seldom gave any response at all to his inquiries. Others looked him over carefully, but lost interest when they saw he had nothing worth stealing. A few others noticed Padmé and seemed more interested, but Anakin quickly discouraged them of any ideas they might be having, tightening his protective grip on her hand. He could feel her trembling, however she tried to control it. He wondered, though, if she were more worried about the fury burning in his mind then her own safety. For someone with no apparent Jedi abilities, she could read his thoughts rather well. He wasn't sure how much he liked that fact that she could enter his brain.

"Are you sure Watto was telling the truth?" Padmé's cautious tone in asking the question indicated that she had been wanting to speak her worries for some time, but feared how Anakin might react.

He shook his head violently, failing to acknowledge the fact that the same thought had been running through his head. "What reason would he have to do that? Why would he be hiding my mother from me?"

Padmé did not answer. She was beginning to get the feel

 

Great Posts and have fun on vacation. I don't know if I will be able to make it without your posts, but alas, there are other stories I am reading. Have lot's of fun Cinde!

 

No posts for two whole weeks?!?!?!

The last few posts were great, though, Cinde! And I can't wait to read Ani's reunion with Shmi when you get back.

 

two weeks... have fun...

 

No posts for two weeks.... Well, we are brave, Your Highness!! But hey, have loooooooots of fun!!

 

Just uppin'

 

Uppin so that the lovely as ever Cinde, finds this thread up where it belongs!!

 

has it been 2 weeks? has it been 2 weeks?

...

oh... i guess not

 

Now it's been two weeks - thanks for keeping the thread from falling too far, everyone! And now I'm back, with plenty new posts! Here's one to get started:
--------------
Padmé did not even think to doubt whether the man's directions would lead to the right place. For some reason, it did not even seem a possibility. Instead, she wondered what his cryptic words had meant ? we don't keep slaves around here. Then what was Anakin's mother doing? Had she been freed? By this farmer, perhaps? But why?

She had no answers, but she knew Anakin was wondering the same things. He was very quiet, piloting the speeder with a thoughtful look on his shadowed face, only occasionally turning his gaze away from the landscape before them, as though he felt it his duty to show Padmé that he still remembered she was sitting next to him.

It was nice to know that, though.

She wanted to think of something to say, something to fill the silence that hovered beneath the roar of the speeder, but every word she tried to say seemed to get stuck in her throat. Thinking of the ache that had been plaguing her ever since leaving her own parents, she knew talking about his mother would be a very sore issue, something too close to his heart to discuss freely, too intense to put into words. And that was why no words were coming to her either.

The smooth motion and drone of the speeder were beginning to put her to sleep again, despite the inherently uncomfortable nature of the thinly-padded passenger's seat. After several miserable failures, she gave up trying to find a position that didn't stretch her neck or squash her leg and sat up straight again, rapidly blinking her drowsy eyes. She glanced at Anakin and suddenly recalled that he had gotten little, if any, sleep over the last few days. And she was the one falling asleep on his shoulder. Padmé frowned. She wasn't sure why that should bother her so much. If Anakin didn't want to sleep, that was his choice. She wasn't responsible for him.

Was she?

She was tired of asking herself questions that never seemed to have any answers. But she knew one thing for certain. She was connected to Anakin somehow, someway, and breaking that bond would cause more pain that it was worth. That realization, for some reason, gave her a peculiar kind of comfort, something to cling to while everything else slipped away from her. Slipping away....drifting....

She seemed to lose track of her bearings for a moment. Was she on a speeder headed for a farm in the middle of the desert? Or on a ship plummeting at a deadly speed towards the planet's surface? Or speeding away from another planet, pursued by an unknown foe and leaving behind the dreadful portents of war? Leaving a world behind, a life, a hope...

"Padmé."

She blinked and sat up in her seat, her muscles stiff and sore. Anakin was nudging her awake, his face tired, but glowing with expectation. The motion of the speeder, she finally noticed, had ceased. She looked at Anakin questioningly.

"We're here." He gave her a tentative grin, and she could sense the struggle between his hope in seeing his mother, and not wanting to get his hopes up at the chance of again being disappointed. Padmé wanted to comfort him and tell him everything would be all right now, but she was just as worried about being disappointed. There had been too many lost hopes lately, and they were exhausting the both of them. So she merely yawned, stretched, and said, "Let's go."

Anakin had stopped the speeder right beside the farm ? if this strange huddle of squat little buildings was, in fact, a farm. It was certainly nothing like the farms Padmé was used to. But then, nothing on Tatooine was like anything she was used to. Anakin seemed fairly confident that it was the right place, though the crease in his brow belied the nervousness he tried to hide. They started toward one of the little hut-like structures, Anakin muttering something about how he hoped it was the front door. There was some kind of door

 

Ooooh ohhhhhhh! I'm glad you're back Cinde!!!

Yeah! A Post!!!! Yeah!!!

This is a real good story. I wonder who's on the other side of the door????

Up!

 

Ah, someone noticed! Well, I won't leave you hanging anymore, and hopefully other people will drift in.
---------
For several tense, expectant moments, there was no answer. Anakin, his face somewhat sickly, tightened his fist and raised it to knock again. At that instant, however, the door opened and he found himself face to face with none other than C-3PO, his own unfinished protocol droid.

"Threepio?" he said in disbelief, as though his brain could conjure up such an image in place of reality. In all his search for his mother, he had never even thought of the droid. Now, at the sight of him, all his hopes seemed about to come true. He could have hugged Threepio then and there, though he wasn't sure how the very proper droid would take such a rash action. He settled for shaking his creation's mechanical hand enthusiastically, letting out a stream of meaningless, excited jabberings. Padmé was close behind, all smiles and warmth, and neither one seemed to notice how utterly flustered was the droid.

Threepio didn't know what to make of them. Mistress Padmé he recognized well enough, though what she should be doing there he had no idea. As for the human male beside her, his insistence on being his Maker was simply absurd. The droid was fairly certain his memory circuits were still intact, and they told him Master Anakin was well below optic-sensor level. This human was taller than any he had seen in years. "I beg your pardon," he said at last, reluctant to interrupt humans but realizing the need for such necessary rudeness, "but may I inquire your purpose in coming here?"

The two stopped talking abruptly, and Anakin stared. Threepio really didn't recognize him. Frustration and something almost like indignation began swelling in him, but then he shrugged it off. Of course. He had put nothing in the droid's circuits to explain the aging processes of humans. Clearly, he had some re-programming to do. Meanwhile, it wouldn't take too long to convince him.

"It's me," he said clearly. "Anakin." When he still showed no sign of recognition, Anakin shook his head grimly, reached over to a place on the droid's left shoulder and flicked a switch. Immediately, Threepio went limp; his optical sensors turned dark and his arms slumped at his sides.

"What was that for?" Padmé exclaimed. "You didn't have to deactivate him."

"Calm down," Anakin told her, focused intently on the droid's body. Padmé began to wish her royal duties had left her more time to study mechanics. Though she knew his twisting and pulling on wires had something to do with programming the droid, she really had no idea what he was doing. She hated that feeling.

"That should do it." Anakin stepped back from Threepio with a look of satisfaction on his face. He flicked the switch back on, and Padmé couldn't help but smile as the droid came back to life, uttering several cries of surprise and confusion before getting his bearings. This time, when his sensors landed on Anakin, even his mechanical face managed to wear a look of recognition.

"Master Anakin!" he exclaimed delightedly. "How good to see you. Mistress Shmi will be quite pleased to know you are here ?"

"Mom is here then?" Anakin interrupted eagerly. He exchanged an excited look with Padmé, and then turned back to Threepio expectantly. "And she's all right? She's not hurt, or in danger?"

"Certainly not." The droid looked rather baffled at Anakin's question. "Do you wish to see her now?"

Anakin could bear the waiting no longer. "Of course I do, Threepio," he told him, and began to push past him through the doorway, Padmé close behind. The droid stayed at the door for a few moments, his circuits whirring madly as he tried to determine what to do, but Anakin's recent programming had left his memory somewhat altered, and he could not seem to recall the proper etiquette. Finally, he gave up scanning his protocol files and merely followed the two of them before he lost sight of them entirely, as they were just about the enter

 

Awwwwwwwwwwww

 

No words can express my emotions right now. Tear Sadsadsad

 

I'm sorry Cindé but I've been out and havn't had the time to check in earlier.
I'm glad though that your back and more glad for the posts. Looking forward to some interaction between mother and son.

CeNedra: Nice to see some Eddings fans around here to.

 

the emotion is so intense... very nice post! glad you're back, how was it?

 

AWWWWW!!! ::melts into a puddle::

 

Only three replys?
Uping this so that more people can see.